Weakness Of The Heart
by G.N. Took-Baggins
Summary: The body of a woman named Danielle Spofford was found dead in a warehouse, her brother tries to track down her killer himself, but comes to no avail. He then hires the London detective from 221B Baker Street to track down the man who murdered her, Moriarty. Alas what they don't know is that as they get closer to finding him, he gets closer to someone they know, his next victim.
1. Chapter 1

The lights around the room flickered as the shocked women fell to her knees, she looked up at the man in front of her, she could see a pained look on his face, she thought she had known him better than this. His arm was still extended with the gun he had just shot her with. She could feel the warm blood cascading over her legs as it emerged from her abdomen.

"Jim..." she muttered, staring up at him with her misty dark brown eyes. "Wha- what did I do wrong?" she had a deeply hurt tone to her voice as she looked up at the man she thought she loved at one point.

He crouched down in front of her, gently resting his hand on her cheek. "You didn't do anything wrong, Dani," he hung his head for half a minute, hiding the tears sliding down his face now, when he looked back up he tapped her cheek, lightly. "And that's why I had to do this."

He bit his lip as he watched the tears pour silently down her warm face, he leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek, and then he stood up, turning to the door, he ran the cuff of his sleeve under his wet eyes.

A low thump behind him made him glance back as he stood in the doorway, she was now laying down on the floor, he could see a pile of blood forming around her. In spite of himself, he smiled. "I am sorry, Dani."

_**A/N **_  
><em><strong>-<strong>_  
><em><strong>Okay, so this is the short and slightly strange prologue to the first Sherlock story, excluding one-shots, that I have done. :) I hope you enjoy it, I kinda wish I did more, but this works best for the rest of the story.<strong>_

_**Thanks for looking into this! :) **_

**_~ Mar_****s**


	2. The Spofford Family

**I have put little bits of German in Farica's speech, so I have a list of words down at the bottom.**

It had been seven months and two weeks since Danielle Spofford had been found dead in an empty warehouse and to Jareth Spofford this meant 229 days that her killer hasn't spent paying for what he did. He had been up countless nights, searching and searching for the man who killed her, even for a small sign of him. He was human, so therefore he had to slip up at some point, didn't he? Jareth knew who had murdered her, but he had nothing to convict him with let alone proof that it was in fact him that had killed her.

His thoughts took up most of his time nowadays, time he should be spending on other things, so mostly he tried to think in the morning, so that he would have more time for other things later in the day. At the moment it was six thirty four in the morning and he was sitting at the edge of his bed, fully dressed, but still just sitting there. Waiting? Thinking? Grieving? He wasn't sure what he was using his morning time for anymore, maybe it was pointless.

The sound of running feet filled his ears and made him halt in his thoughts, by the time he turned, a head of bouncing black hair was swiftly making it's way over to him. "Good morning, Dada," his four year old daughter, Farica Lotte was crawling on to the bed next to him, she was German and adopted by him when she was three, but he felt like he had had her for years upon years, he loved her like it anyways.

"Hello sweetie," he pulled her into his lap and rested his chin on the top of her head. "What sounds good for breakfast?" he asked her, as he looked at her smiling face. He didn't care how hard it was to make, he would make whatever she wanted.

She opened her mouth suddenly as if she had just had the best idea in the world. "Muesli!"

Jareth hesitated, muesli? It had to sit overnight, but she really wanted it. He had to step up sometimes. "How about the crepes we made on Sunday?" he suggested and watched her as she stopped and thought about it for a moment.

"Okay, sounds good." she said, sliding off his lap and heading out the door that lead to the small kitchen in his upper apartment.

He got up and followed her out of his bedroom and into the much colder kitchen. After fixing the temperature he walked over to the fridge and pulled open the light blue door and got out the poorly done crepes he had made two days before, he opened the bag and set three on a plate for the two of them and popped it in the microwave. When he turned around to lean on the counter as he waited, he saw her smoothing the table cloth with her little stubby hands, she was always fixing up things, sometimes he thought she might be a bit OCD.

"Why are you up so early?" he asked her, enjoying the fact that his four year old could carry on a conversation that would be too trivial for most kids her age.

She shrugged and finished smoothing her part of the table out. "Ursache I know you were," she said, with out looking up at him, planting her elbows on the table, she cupped her hands and put her head in them.

The beeping behind him told him that the food was done now, he smiled lightly and pulled the plate out of the microwave, he held it down for her to take her crepe, but he frowned a little when she took two leaving him with the one he had planned for her, with a smirk he went back over the fridge and and pulled out a shake he had made yesterday.

He poured himself a glass and set down his plate, but before he sat down he stepped into the living room and grabbed the laptop sitting on the table. He tucked it under his arm as he came back into the kitchen and then set it down on the table next to his glass and plate. "You don't mind, do you?" he sarcastically asked Farica, who just shook her head. Her face was covered in fruit from the crepe filling, in an attempt to remove it she just smeared more on.

He grabbed a rag off the counter next to him and wiped her face with one hand, turning on the laptop with his other. "I'll get you some water," he said, smiled and got up to get a glass for her.

She started humming lightly and kicking her feet back and forth as she poked at her second crepe. He put the cup in front of her and wiped her hands down with the rag. "Here you go."

"Thank you." she said cheerfully as he sat back down and turned to his computer. He pulled up a page to look for any news from the detective that worked on his sister's murder, then he looked into anything new on Jim Moriarty, the man he suspected of being the killer of his sister. He saw nothing new, which didn't make his day much better.

Farica rested her hand on his arm, the way he told her to if she had a question when he was busy, he looked down at her. "What's up?" he asked with a smile coming over his face.

"Um..." she started, her feet still swinging, "Later today, could we go to... ah... the- the," she mumbled in German, the way she did when she was trying to come up with an English word, "Bibliothek?" she tapped her fingers on the table as she waited for him to reply.

_Bibliothek? Biblo. Book. _Jareth thought over what word that was. "Oh, the library," she started to nod quickly. After he adopted her he started to learn German, seeing as it was the only language she knew, it was hard for them at first, cause she would get frustrated at him and he couldn't answer what she was asking. "Yeah," he replied. "We can go, what books are you looking for?" he asked her as he started to eat his breakfast.

She shrugged again. "Something fun," she said as she hopped off of her chair, her face was now covered in some more fruit.

He gave a breathy chuckle. "Go clean up your face and then we'll get you dressed," he stood and cleared his dishes and Farica's as well. She went running off to the bathroom as he put the dishes in the washer. He could hear her singing a German rhyme in the bathroom as he dried his hands and headed for the front door, picking up the mail on the ground. Two checks from recent clients, a few letters for him from government institutes and a small box for Farica from his mother, Jareth suspected that it had some sort of candy inside.

Hiding the box behind his back, he walked over to the bathroom and poked his head in, only to see her now soaking wet, but free of fruity substances. "Grandma Marie sent a gift for you," he said from the door as he watched her face light up, "But," he said, getting down to her sight level, "You have to get dressed first." he tapped her nose and walked over to her bedroom, her tailing behind him.

She jumped up on her bed and held her arms up, "Can I wear something blue?" she requested as he pulled out some clothes for her, a blue shirt and a pair of jeans, he wasn't very good with 'fashion' and 'style' and that sort of stuff, he just made sure she was warm and comfortable. He got her dressed and made sure that her hair was brushed and pulled out of her face, he knew it would be falling out in no time, but that didn't matter much in the whole span of life.

They walked into the living room, where she sat down at the coffee table and started to open the box, he watched her as he got some things ready for their library trip. She pulled out a three pack of candy bracelet and a set of colored pencils, that he could hear her ooing and ahhing over. Then she pulled out two small books that caught his eye, they were roped to each other and had a note on the top, but from what he could see it wasn't in English.

"What's that, hun?" he inquired as he finished getting his stuff in his bag and walked over to her, taking a seat on the ground next to her and slid his glasses on.

"Bilders of us," she grinned and sat on his lap as she opened one of the books, which had pictures of the two of them, ones that he recognized as taken by his mother. He was a little surprised at the amount of photos there was from the past year and a half that he had had her.

After looking at quite a few of the photos he picked up the note, which he could see was in German. "What does the note say?" he knew most of the words, but some of them were still hard for him to read, mostly in his mother's hand writing.

She set the little book to the side as she took the note from him, she frowned a little as she focused on it. "One for you-" she bit her bottom lip as she seemed to be glaring at the paper, "- and one for Dada." she gave him a smile that said '_Did I do a good job?'_, as she passed one of the books to him.

The book fit perfectly next to his wallet in his messenger bag. "These are excellent, let's go to the library and maybe we can pick up a thank you card for grandma on the way home," they both stood and walked to the door. He put her coat on her and threw his own over his arm. "Let's go." 

**A/N**

**Hello! Thank you so much for reading this and voting. :) If you could leave a comment with what you think about it, that would be amazing, thank you. The next chapter should be up in about a week, I hope you like it.**

**~ Mars**

**_Ursache - Cause_**

**_Bilders - Pictures_**


	3. In 221B

The dishes in the sink clattered a bit as Martha Hudson moved them about so that she could make her lunch. She had been woken up at almost five in the morning when Sherlock had been storming about, claiming that he had a dream about where Moriarty was hiding out and that they had to get Lestrade and go there now, it had taken her over an hour and a half to calm him down and by then she knew there was no point in going back to bed.

Sherlock was now up in his room, pacing and mumbling to himself about the many cases he had done recently. She worried about him very much since Moriarty had come back, so much had happened and he blamed himself for it, she was always pained when she watched him like this, guilt ridden and growing confused.

Martha Hudson finished making lunch and split it in half so that she could take some to Sherlock upstairs, knowing that he would most likely forget to eat on a day like this. By the time she got it on the plate and was heading to the stairs, a knock came from the front door, setting the food to the side she went to get it, Mary Watson stood on the other side, and almost got a telling off from Mrs. Hudson for being out alone while she was due almost any day now.

"Hello," Mary spoke quickly, troubling to get her pregnant self up the stairs. "Is John here, do you know?" the blonde woman leaned on the railing as she conversed with the elderly landlady.

"I don't," Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "But Sherlock is upstairs if you want to come talk to him." the landlady hoisted up the tray she had set down. She took the tray up the stairs and stopped on the first landing, she could hear the woman at the bottom of the steps breathing heavily as she tried to make it up the stairs.

Mrs. Hudson set the tray down on the steps in front of her, "Sherlock!" she cried up the stairs, she heard the door fly open and the man was soon standing before her.

"What's the matter?" he asked, a frantic tone in his voice as he looked over his landlady for any injuries and then he looked around for who he might need to hurt, but when his eyes fell on Mary he nodded. "Oh, so it's nothing important." he stated as he looked back over at Mrs. Hudson, who was shaking her head.

"Not at all, but I want you to give Mary a hand coming up." she picked the tray back up and went on her way up to the room, leaving Sherlock to help Mary.

"Maybe it would be best if I just stayed down here," she exclaimed and sat on the bottom step, she sighed lightly. The past few weeks had been hard on her body and she didn't know how much longer it would be till it was over. "Do you think Mrs. Hudson would allow that?" she looked up at the dark haired man standing a few steps above her.

He shook his head and offered her his arm. "I doubt it very much," he helped her stand and make her way up the stairs. "Careful now, don't get me yelled at." his eyes flicked to the top of the stairs to make sure that Mrs. Hudson wasn't coming out yet.

By the time they got to the room, the tea was set and poured for them and Mrs. Hudson was fixing a seat for Mary that had far too many pillows in it. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," the pregnant women said as she took a seat across from Sherlock's normal 'thinking' chair.

As Mrs. Hudson made her way back downstairs, the detective sat down and eyed the woman, full of secrets, seated in front of him. She looked so fragile at the moment, but he had no idea what she was capable of doing and not just to him.

He took a sip of the hot tea that was set on the table next to him, "So, have you thought about names for your daughter?"

Mary had been watching the window, she gently turned her head to look at him, a smile on her face. "Even if we have, I won't tell you," she said and picked up the steaming tea cup Mrs. Hudson had made for her.

Sherlock might have said that he was offended, but curious was a better word for it. "And why not? it's not like I have a need for child's names, I'm just trying to start a conversation."

"John told me not to. He said, 'Mary don't tell anyone about the names we've been talking about and for goodness sake don't even bring it up with Sherlock!'" an amused look came over her face as she sipped her sweet tea and watched his reaction.

"Oh, come on, is John really playing this game with me?" his tone was sharp, but not as hurt sounding as he was pretending to look.

Mary chuckled, she knew how immature these men were, but it still surprised her sometimes. "Are you really playing this game with _me_? Cause it won't work like it does on Molly."

Sherlock looked a little taken back but he didn't say anything, which made her think they were done talking for now. The two of them became silent as they watched one and other, it was so quite they could hear some people talking on the street and the bubbling of Sherlock's experiments in the kitchen.

The door opened downstairs and they could hear someone talking to Mrs. Hudson, before heading up the stairs, a voice came with it. "Sherlock, would you please stop giving your bloody phone to homeless people," he sighed as he came to the top of the stairs, "cause I'm pretty sure that one came from some an asylum, if not a prison."

John Watson raised his eyebrows at Sherlock when he was done talking, but then his eyes fell on Mary. "Is something wrong?" he asked, not letting Sherlock reply to the accusations he had just made.

Mary Watson turned to look at her husband, shaking her head. "No, I was just looking for you, and Sherlock was trying to get baby names out of me," she tilted her head towards the seated man behind her.

"I was not." Sherlock said without looking up from his tea cup, the fading steam was warming his thin face, which was pulled into a frown as the smell of fried skin started to waft in from his latest experiment.

John Watson kissed Mary's cheek and took her hand in his, "Sherlock, take your phone," he tossed it to him.

"We're heading home, I'll see you later," he told the detective as they both covered their noses at the smell. Sherlock watched them go and set his tea aside, he thought about some things, things like Magnussen, Moriarty, Molly Hooper and his brother.

They were all on his thoughts recently, Magnussen might be gone, but there was so much he stopped by killing him. Some people might have lingered on the fact that they had recently killed someone, but to him all he saw was saving the lives of so many people he could have blackmailed.

It was more than obvious why he had James Moriarty on his thoughts, his recent comeback put him on everyone's mind, Sherlock tried vigorously to shake him from his mind, but it never seemed to work anyways.

"Hoo-hoo," Sherlock's landlady made a noise as she alerted him of her presence in the room. "John and Mary are so lovely." she settled herself in the chair that Mary had been in before, she moved a few pillows and then looked over at the man in front of her.

"Oh, I just remembered," she said and he turned to look at her, a small part of him hoping she was about to leave the room, "Marie's lost a child, the poor dear, she just told me yesterday. I just can't believe how hard it would be." she started to shake her head. "She lived in Canada, it must be worse when they live far away." Sherlock really didn't care what Mrs. Hudson was saying, but he let her talk anyways. "Don't you think it would be hard? I do."

Sherlock nodded and stood up. "Yes, it sounds very hard and if you don't mind, I would very much like to be alone." he glanced back at her, before he turned to the window again, a frown on his face. The window across the street was open... it was never open. He wondered who might be over there and why they left it open, but that was just another mystery for later.

**Hey! Thanks for reading the second chapter. :) I hope you enjoy it and thanks for the support. :)**

**~Mars. :) **


	4. The Library and The Mother

p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family:  
>Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;<br>text-align: justify;" The small grey car owned by Jareth Spofford pulled up outside of the public library in his town. It was a small building, a quaint little shop that was run by an elderly couple and their two children, who Jareth happened to know were desperate to move out. As they entered the shop, Jareth and Farica could hear someone talking very loudly about how her cousin was murdered and her aunt and uncle hired a detective from England./p 


End file.
